


i fell for a supervillain

by animeboybuttsex, SaioumaIsMyAesthetic



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Eventual Smut, M/M, Secret Identity, Superheroine Akamatsu, Supervillains, Villain Ouma, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12522520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeboybuttsex/pseuds/animeboybuttsex, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaioumaIsMyAesthetic/pseuds/SaioumaIsMyAesthetic
Summary: Ouma Kokichi (A.K.A. Byzantium Die) is a supervillain who enjoys visiting a homey diner after committing his crimes (that he sees more as petty pranks.) There's a new waiter, and--is he getting harassed?Time save that cute waiter and unintentionally drag him into a huge mess involving his arch nemesis: the superheroine Spirito Note.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma visits his favorite diner. He finds attraction in a cute waiter working at minimum wage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ NOTES ON THE BOTTOM!!

     It was tradition for Ouma to visit the locally-owned diner a few blocks from his apartment.

     After a long day, he enjoyed sitting down in a booth, ordering some (admittedly subpar) coffee, and stuffing his face with a cheeseburger. Its homey atmosphere welcomed him every time, as though it didn't realize what he had most likely been doing prior. 

     Ouma Kokichi was what most would call a supervillain. He just thought he was an average guy having fun.

     It had started out as pranks; faking bank robberies and scaring everyone in the room with a toy gun that shot out to reveal a flag, messing with security cameras at shopping malls so he could sneak in and play porn audio on the loudspeakers, binding police he knocked out to poles and fences with their own handcuffs, those sorts of things. He never saw them doing any harm (other than maybe sending people into panic attacks, and maybe scarring children and their parents, and maybe disabling officers to do anything if a crime nearby  _was_ being committed.) 

     However, other people did not find them amusing, and with the count of heroes and villains rising around the world, they resorted to calling Ouma a supervillain. Which he thought he wasn't, really, because all he was doing was messing with people. But what could be more fun than becoming an actual villain?

     Well, lot of things, really, but Ouma didn't have access to stuff like a helicopter full of fireworks.

     But coming out as a villain turned out to be way more entertaining than he had originally thought. When he had first appeared on the top of the local bank wearing a cape, checkered scarf, and a clown mask after shooting off some flare guns, he got the attention of a crowd of people, calling himself the new supervillain Byzantium Die.

     His "crimes" didn't change by much. But that phony gun turned to a real one that he would use to steal about twenty dollars at most, those security cameras were completely destroyed altogether, and the poor police officers were then drawn all over and sometimes gagged just so they couldn't yell for help. But as much fun he was having being a supervillain, he couldn't deny that he felt a little bad for going as far as he did. He never really meant for any of his actions to hurt people.

     Though the fame and talk about him made up for the fact that his pranks were turning into actual crimes. Ouma Kokichi  _was_ an entertainer, after all.

     And he was also an ordinary guy, with an ordinary job, who enjoyed some ordinary food at an ordinary diner.

     So, with a fresh twenty-dollar bill in his pocket, he mosied into the diner, sat down, and remained comfortably in his seat to be waited on.

     "Hey, you're pretty cute... can I have your number?"

     The sound of a drunken female voice caught his attention, and Ouma turned around in his seat to see a group of three women in their twenties talking to a new waiter who was looking fairly uncomfortable.

     "Ah, I'm... not interested, sorry. C-Can I get you ladies a drink?"

     "How about we get you one instead, handsome?"

     The waiter, Ouma noticed, was his age, and was fidgeting in his place as he tried to just do his job an hour before closing time at eleven PM. He had a young face-- his hazel-gray eyes looked side to side under a thick head of black hair, and his lower eyelashes were prominent against soft skin that was slightly blemished. When he squinted, Ouma could see that his nametag read "Saihara."

     Ouma could tell that this "Saihara" was doing his best not to run out and into the back where he could find refuge from the girls attempting to hit on him. He sighed, figuring that hey, Saihara could find his way out of this one, that he looked mentally strong enough, though uncomfortable, and turned back to look at the menu set on his table. But it was hard to read the words when all he heard were girls giggling in a drunken stupor.

     "Hey, so... Saihara, is it? Maybe after your shift you could come back with us." He heard one of the girls say as he read what the special was that day.

     "Yeah, and you don't need to need to worry about a condom. We've got that covered." 

     "Come on, don't you wanna fuck one of us?"

     Ouma didn't need to look back to tell that Saihara was extremely uncomfortable with the current situation, and quickly stood up to stride over.

     "Hey babe! Ready for the movie tonight?" He wrapped a lean arm around Saihara's waist and kissed his cheek, making everyone else shut up in surprise.  _What the hell am I doing? All I wanted was a basket of fries._ Ouma surprised even himself by what he found himself doing. But the twisting feeling in his gut when he heard the girls try to woo the other made him clench his jaw and fists, sending an unrecognizable feeling through his being. "It's been so long since we've been able to sleep at your place."

     All four stared at him in shock. Saihara looked the most confused, locking eyes with Ouma for a good five seconds before realizing what he was trying to do, and cleared his throat to give a wavering smile.

     "Y-Yeah. I got your favorite soda, too." Saihara's warm arm slung over Ouma's shoulder and it sent a warm tingle down his spine.

      _Geez, this guy is a terrible liar._ "Really?! Thanks! I ran out at home. And I've got a little surprise for you~"

     "Aha..." Saihara blushed. At least it fit the conversation. "I can't wait."

     This seemed to do the trick, as the intoxicated girls believed the lie and began ordering like usual. Saihara noticeably relaxed with a relieved smile on his face. "I'll be waiting a few booths down for you." Ouma purred, sauntering back to his original seat with a sly grin on his face as the waiter stared at him as he walked away. He doubted that Saihara would get the girls' orders right.

     As he slid back into his booth, Ouma sighed. He felt his grin fall for a few moments. Why had he done that? And for a stranger, no less? But seeing those beautiful eyes up close and feeling that strong arm around his shoulder made it somehow worth it, and the way Saihara's eyes seemed to sparkle for a second with warm light shining behind him, giving him a halo of luminescence was a good payoff for his act of kindness.

     That short minute he spent with Saihara instantly made Ouma grow attracted.

     Ouma had not gone on any dates in a  _very_ long time. He simply didn't have enough time or interest for a romantic relationship, and it wasn't like he could see anyone being with him of all people, even if they didn't know his secret identity. 

     Ouma was a liar, plain and simple. Lying was just part of his nature. Without his lies, Ouma was just a husk-- at least, he felt so. He had just become so used to lying that it became part of him, and if you asked him what his real personality was like, he wouldn't be able to tell you, because somewhere along the line, Ouma lost track of what were lies and what was the truth. And what kind of person would want to be even  _associated_ with a guy like that?

     But seeing Saihara's hopeful, relieved eyes made him want to at least try. Not try to stop lying-- that seemed impossible at this point-- but to try and get Saihara to like him, too. Even if it was just as a friend. Ouma could use anyone right now.

     "Hey, um..." Ouma looked up and grinned when he saw the waiter standing at his table, rubbing his neck a bit. "Th-Thank you. For, uh, helping me back there."

     "Nishishi! No problem, my beloved Saihara! Come on, sit down with me!" Ouma put his hands behind his head casually, and he saw Saihara pause for a moment before nodding and sitting across from him. Ouma frowned a bit, he silently wished that the other would sit next to him instead of across, but he couldn't really blame Saihara in spite of the situation. "My name is Ouma. Ouma Kokichi."

     "It's... nice to meet you, Ouma. I'm Saihara Shuuichi. B-But I guess you already knew my last name, haha..." He chuckled nervously, motioning to his nametag.

     Ouma frowned a bit. He could easily tell Saihara was still uncomfortable and nervous. He sighed, relaxing his muscles and placing his arms on the table, letting a kinder smile fall on his face for just a bit. "Hey, hey... you don't gotta be so tense! I don't bite, y'know." Saihara's eyes fell downwards to the table, chewing his bottom lip. "Well,  _maybe_ I do. Who knows? Buuuuut if you open up a bit you might find out."

     To this, Saihara snorted a bit in amusement. "Sorry. I'm just... not really good in social situations. Of any kind, really." The way his eyes seemed to sparkle a little sent Ouma’s heart flying. This boy truly was beautiful.

     Ouma’s devilish grin soon came back as he shrugged. “Me neither!”

     “Really?”

     “Nope! That was a lie. People _love_ me! I’m so charming, riiiiight?”

     Saihara chuckled a little, freely. He seemed to be loosening up. A good sign. “Yeah, I guess so.” Ouma couldn’t help but let out a small giggle of his own. Saihara was already doing things to him that he’d never felt before, and he couldn’t decide whether he liked the new feelings or not. But either way, Ouma knew that he wanted to know more about the black-haired beauty across from him, and if that took a long time... well, he could wait.

     “Heeey, Saihara?” He waited for Saihara’s hum to acknowledge his question, “Do you like superheros? Or villains?”

     The other blushed a bit, then laughed a tiny bit out of nerves. “Ah, yeah... I, um, really like Spirito Note. She’s really cool and graceful. I might be biased, though, since I have a friend like her...”

     Ouma’s upper lip twitched a bit. Spirito Note— A blonde girl who constantly ruined his prank-crimes. _I should have seen that coming,_ He thought, _Everyone loves her._

“Yeah! She’s kinda overrated, though. I think Byzantium Die is a cool villain!” _Time to see how Saihara feels about... well, me._

“Hm,” Saihara hummed aloud, thinking, “I guess he’s pretty interesting. He always makes the most intricate stuff. I don’t get his name though. Die? Like the action? It’s... weird.”

      _Again? Why does nobody get my cool name?_ “Hm... I’m pretty sure he means “die” as in dice, but singular. Doesn’t it sound a lot cooler like that?” 

     “I guess so. It surely doesn’t sound half-assed in any way. I guess he put a lot of thought into his name. Kind of admirable, really.” Saihara looked down at his hands, his thick lashes draping over his eyes and cheeks, and the sight alone caused Ouma’s heart to skip a beat or two. He knew, right then, that this waiter would be the death of him, but he was going to make sure to fuck him before that. (Consensually, of course. He wasn’t a madman.) “He really does seem intelligent. N-Not that I support him or anything! Just, um. Yeah.”

     Ouma grinned and leaned back to slouch comfortably in his booth. “Mhm. I get ‘ya. It’s nice and all to dislike the enemy, but it’s smart to know their skills, too, instead of just their weaknesses.” 

     “Well, I wouldn’t say I _dislike_ him...” _Oh? Where was he going with this?_ Saihara scratched the side of his cheek lightly as he continued to avert his eyes. “I just don’t support what he does. He’s... interesting to me. I guess I don’t really have a set feeling about him. Yes, he’s the enemy, but he doesn’t seem to do any real harm, and I don’t think he means to. He definitely could if he wanted.

     “That’s why I don’t really get him. With all of his precision and wit, he could definitely get away with much more, but... he doesn’t. Even though he’s a supervillain. He’s an enigma. I-I-I mean...! He’s just...” The man across from him let out a sigh of defeat. “...I don’t know. I find myself wanting to know more and more about him. Find his thought process, his drive, his goal... Ah, um, sorry for rambling.”

     The blush that came across Saihara’s face made Ouma feel like he was going to burst. This guy—this _damn guy—_ was too cute. Ouma didn’t know that he was capable of feeling such as he was right now. A foriegn feeling, deep in his gut, that burned his insides and drowned him, leaving his gasping for breath and clinging to his composure for dear life.

     What was this? Limerance? Maybe. It was very possible to just be that: a temporary infatuation that would follow him around for a couple years then take flight. He would be okay to give two years of his time and thoughts to Saihara, and Saihara alone. But something deep inside him told him that maybe, just _maybe,_ it could be something different. A little something more.

     Either way, it would be troublesome for Ouma. He was guaranteed to be haunted by these thoughts and feelings for a good while, temporary or not, and if he wasn’t careful, he could end up cornered by the enemy (or his own feelings) and Saihara would find out his true identity.

     But maybe Saihara wouldn’t mind that he was Byzantium Die. After all, he had just explained how interesting he found him. Ouma would definitely get to talk to the waiter quite often, getting to know each other, maybe taking Saihara along on some of his adventures to show him how it worked behind-the-scenes, and he was sure that Saihara would enjoy that. But there was no telling if he would report to the police. And judging by Ouma’s growing reputation, the young man could very possibly be dragged into something someone like him shouldn’t be in. 

     “No need to apologize, Shuuichi dear!” Ouma found himself feeling a bit giddy when Saihara blushed at the use of his first name. “I looove listening to your voice! You’re so beautiful, my beloved Saihara!

     “...is what you’d want me to say, right?” Saihara seemed utterly lost, trying to buckle in the rollercoaster that was Ouma’s actions, and he found it amusing to no end. He loved talking to Saihara and wanted to see more of that blush and that smile, but he also wanted to leave him confused and guessing. That’s what he enjoyed, after all. “Nishishi! Kidding! But I do mean it when I say you don’t need to apologize.”

     “Aha... is that so...?” There it was: the nervous smile, averted eyes, and flushed cheeks. But he couldn’t help but want to snatch that hat right off his head when Saihara pulled the brim down to cover most of his eyes. He decided that would be his first goal. Get Saihara to take his hat off. 

     “Yep.” Ouma smiled. Not a grin, or a smirk, but an honest-to-god smile. “So, my dear Shuuichi, when do we get to go back to your place to buy me some Panta and watch that movie?” His arms found their way on top of the table, palms flat, and he stood up in his seat a little, eyes sparkling like an excited puppy. “Oh, and it better be good. I’m _very_ picky when it comes to my movies.”

     “Wh-What...? Wha...?” 

     “Nishishi! Come onnnn!” Saihara was too shocked to say anything or resist when Ouma grabbed him by the arm to drag him out of the booth and onto the busy sidewalk lit up by flashy neon signs and regular lighting fixtures shining through from windows. Ouma found himself looking up to the sky, desperately wishing for all of the lights in a five-mile radius to turn off so he could just gaze at the stars, leaving them alone and the moonlight to guide them along.

     That was his biggest complaint about living in the city. Not being able to see the stars he so desperately loved.

     “So Shuuichi,” He began, linking his slim arm with Saihara’s toned ones, “Which way do you live?”

     “W-Wait, I didn’t agree to this!”

     “Yuh-huh, you owe me a date for saving your ass back there! Now let’s go buy some candy and soda for movie night. Oh, and you’re paying.”

     “Why do _I_ have to pay?!”

     “Because,” Ouma began, starting to tug Saihara along to the nearest convenience store, regardless if it was the right way to his place or not, “I left you a really big tip.”

     “You didn’t give me any tip.”

     “I beg to differ, my sweet.” The smaller stopped walking for a moment to give Saihara a devilish, childish grin. “Check your back pocket.”

     Saihara turned around a fraction, patting himself down until he found his pocket, and his eyes grew a bit wide when he pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. “O-Ouma, you didn’t have to give me this much!” The waiter chose to dismiss his mastery at pickpocketing to instead gape at the money in front of him. 

     “Mm... Maybe not, but I wanted to, Shuu-i-chi.” 

     “C-Can you, um, not say my first name like that...?” A slim and pale hand reached up to pull the brim of his cap down to hide the blush that Ouma was sure was there, even though it would be impossible to tell in this lighting. “It’s, ah, kind of embarrassing...”

     “Huuuh? But aren’t we dating? Boyfriends can call each other stuff like that.”

     “W-We’re not boyfriends! And this isn’t a date...!” Seeing the flustered look on Saihara’s face made Ouma snicker inside, and he immediately knew that his statement was worth it. You could maybe call him a bit of a sadist, he thought, as he enjoyed seeing others struggle with their words.

     Ouma felt his eyes fill with tears, blurring his vision and obscuring his view of Saihara’s beautiful face. “D-Does Saihara not l-like me...?” He sniffled, “You—You’re so _mean,_ Shuuichi! _WAHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHHHHH!”_

Immediately, he heard Saihara panic through his gross sobbing and fake temper tantrum. He could feel the stares of passersby, judging both him and Saihara, and if he weren’t giving a performance, he would snicker.  

     “N-No, Ouma! I really like you, okay! Just, ah, please stop crying...!”

     Wiping his eyes and nose, Ouma sniffled again. “D-Does that mean this _is_ a date?” He looked like he would bawl again at any moment with his eyes watering and mouth trembling.

     “Y—Yeah. It’s a, um... a d-date.”

     “Okaaaaaay!” In a moment, the tears were gone, and Ouma’s hands were back in their place behind his head. “Yaaaaay! I get to go on a date with Shuuichi!” 

     “Was—Was that just a show?!”

     “Hmm... Who knows? I _am_ a liar, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know if i'll keep this going, but i will if you guys want me to. please comment if you do!! i dont want to leave this when you guys are wanting more
> 
> also, im trying to avoid honorifics, since i really don't like them, but ouma uses them a lot. lmk if yall have any suggestions for what he can call saihara?? ive only got "my beloved saihara" so far lmao


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma gets some new gear after his movie date.

“Wooooow! Shuuichi’s apartment is so clean!” Ouma let himself in, the waiter he was holding hostage close behind with a plastic bag of treats. 

The apartment was small—on the fifth floor, it opened to a wide living room area with a worn leather sofa and TV, sparated only by a coffee table that had quite a few novels resting on it. Next to the TV, a metal rack stood, holding different cases of movies and CDs and others of the like, with its black painting chipping off, giving it a more tasteful feel. 

To the left sat the kitchen. It was compact, with only the necessities, like a gas oven, refridgerator, microwave, et cetera. A counter with a few barstools extended from the wall as well. Only small things like gum or a tiny bowl full of loose change were on it.

Straight ahead was another hallway with three doors. The first two, on the left side of the hallway, Ouma assumed were Saihara’s bedroom and bathroom. The third on the right felt like a closet or another empty room.

At the end of the hallway was the balcony. The glass door that blocked the inside from the out was a bit smudged, with a fancy brass doorknob the pushed the hinges forward, and it led to a small patio-like area with a small white table and a plastic lawn chair facing the railing, with a perfect view of the streets below, flashy bar and hotel signs just across the way. Though noisy, Ouma could only imagine how nice it would be to have this at his own home.

“Aha... I don’t really own too much, so it’s hard to ever call it dirty.” Saihara chuckled somewhat tightly as he set the bag down on the counter. Ouma had made himself at home resting on the couch, pulling a throw blanket around his entire body with his feet up and shoes off. He heard a little rustling of plastic behind him.

“Here.” Ouma looked to the left where the other had sat down, reaching out when Saihara handed him his bottle of grape Panta and Skittles. Saihara had brought his own diet Coke with him.

“Shuuichi, why do you drink that diet stuff? It’s so gross.”

“Hey, I like it!” Saihara huffed a bit, uncapping the bottle and taking a sip. “...I don’t know. I like how it tastes compared to regular soda.” 

“I feel betrayed, Shuuichi, and you did this to me! Hey, hey, anyway, aren’t you gonna choose a movie?” 

“Wh-What? I thought you were gonna choose.” Saihara heaved himself up off the sofa to walk over to the rack and crouch to see the titles better. “Why can’t you?”

“Because I’m comfy and I don’t wanna move.” Ouma answered simply. Saihara sighed a bit but said nothing. He seemed to expect that kind of answer, and Ouma grinned a bit, seemingly happy that the other didn’t protest or call him lazy. 

“Mm... you’ve got a nice ass. I wouldn’t mind ramming into it some day.” Saihara tensed and made a small squeak that he desperately tried to hide and cover up, but Ouma heard and snickered at it anyway. (It wasn’t a lie, though. He really enjoyed the back view of Saihara bending over.)

“O-Ouma!” Saihara’s face burned red when he looked back to Ouma’s smug one. All the blood that rushed to his head made him look like he may have passed out at any second. Face still burning, Saihara grabbed a random movie to quickly put it in, only to swiftly return to the couch, sitting considerably far from Ouma.

Saihara, he had realized over the past hour spent with him, was very easily flustered. The smallest thing would cause him to tense up and stutter. To Ouma, it was the cutest god damn thing, and he was sure that others thought the same. Saihara would tense and hunch his shoulders up to his red ears, with blush practically painted across his face, and avert his eyes frantically before finding the floor, where his long eyelashes would brush against his red cheeks. 

Even his timid actions made his heart skip a beat. Filling his own silence with an “ah” or “um,” usually followed by a small stutter, was an oddly calming thing to hear. Chewing his plump bottom lip, seeing his tongue dart across to wet them once in a while, and watching the words roll out of his mouth made Ouma wonder how those lips would feel against his own (and/or something else.) Saihara’s scent... it was a mix of masculinity and beauty. Fresh deoderant, clean clothes that smelled of lavender, cucumber-scented shampoo, and a little something extra that Ouma could swear was a spray of perfume made for a meadow of flowers that was the waiter’s smell. Not too strong, not too weak, but just right.

Maybe that made Ouma a bit of a creep. But he was already fucked up enough, so a little obsession was nothing.

“What movie did you put in?”

“The Goonies. Have you seen it before...?” 

“Yeah, I have!” Ouma genuinely perked up a bit with a warm grin on his face as he turned to face Saihara, whose gaze was anywhere but Ouma’s. “That was one of my favorite movies as a kid.”

Saihara smiled amicably, flicking to meet Ouma’s eyes for a short moment. “Aha... I’m glad. It really is a fun movie.”

Ouma wasn’t sure who was watching the movie more. Throughout the film, he kept making comments and jokes and pointing out small mistakes that no other person could find easily, and Saihara kept glancing at Ouma shamelessly, thinking he didn’t notice, but deep down he knew Ouma was very well aware of it. He could feel Saihara’s gaze—it wasn’t one of love or attraction, but more analytical and curious, as much as he found himself hoping that it was really the former. By the end of the movie, he decided that he would make that happen.

It was one AM when the movie finally ended. Ouma had slyly made his way closer to Saihara on the couch, so close he could feel his body heat, and one shift would make their thighs touch and hands close. If Saihara noticed, (which he probably did,) he didn’t say anything about it, and that fact alone made Ouma feel like he had accomplished something. 

Saihara yawned and stretched, wiggling his toes in his thick socks with his mouth open wide, letting out an ugly noise that he was too tired to cover. “I didn’t notice it was so late...” He mumbled more to himself when he checked his phone. The faint light of the movie screen as the ending song quietly played left a reflection in Saihara’s hazel eyes. “I really should be getting to bed.”

“Mm... me too. I don’t wanna walk home.”

“Y-you can sleep on the couch. If you—If you want.” There was the blush and averted eyes again. Ouma’s heart skipped a beat even though he knew it was coming.

“Whaaaaat? I can’t believe my dear Shuuichi is such a pervert!” Ouma gripped his chest, not bothering to hide his joking grin.

“Wh— No! Just... if you want to, you can, since you don’t wanna walk back to your place...” Saihara stuttered and rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you... like me to, um, drive you back...?” 

“Hm... nah, I’m good! As long as you go on another date with me, that is.”

“Either way, you win...” Was a small mumble Ouma heard before Saihara spoke up, clearly this time. “Ah, I’ll... I’ll give you my number.” 

“Yay, Shuuichi’s my boyfriend now!”

“N-No I’m not...!”

“Not yet, my beautiful.” As soon as Saihara was done scribbling his number on a piece of scrap paper, Ouma swiftly took it from his hands and stuffed it in his pocket. “Seeya, Shuuichi!” 

“Bye, Ouma.”

Fuck. Ouma wished he could hear his name roll off of Saihara’s tongue more often.

“You can call me Kokichi, ya know! We are dating.” 

A blush, barely visible from the low light of the TV and kitchen farther away. “No we aren’t!”

“Yes we are! We just had a date and we’re going on another one, so that means we’re dating.”

“F-fine, okay.” Saihara found interest in the kitchen counter, chewing that bottom lip that Ouma loved oh-so-much, as his cheeks got a shade darker than before. “Sleep well, Ou—Kokichi.”

Oh, god, did that do wonders for Ouma’s brain. Saihara stuttering his first name, red-faced and tense, avoiding all possible contact, physical or otherwise, and pulling the brim on his hat down was more beautiful than anything Ouma had ever seen. He found himself despising that hat, wanting to see more of Saihara’s hair, more of his near golden eyes, and he made it a new goal to get the boy to stop wearing the cap.

“G’night, my beloved Shuuichi, I’ll be looking forward to our next date! Let’s go to a restaurant or something, yeah?” 

“Ah, s-sure...”

Ouma left, wearing a grin the whole time, until he finally got home to take a shower and go to bed.

 

“What the hell, you fucking rat? How did you break this again?!” 

“I told you, I was on a date with this really cute guy and accidentally spilled Panta on it! Why are you so mean to me, Miu? I thought we were friends!”

“Like hell we are! We’ve just known each other for fifteen fucking years, and I’ve hated your childish ass the whole damn time!”

“But you’re doing all this stuff for me. That means we’re buddies, right? Because I know you, and you wouldn’t do this for just anyone, Mi-u dear!” Ouma sat on his chair backwards, facing Iruma’s workbench, and swinging his legs with his chin lying on crossed arms. “You may be a slut, but even you still do this for people close to you for free!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you wouldn’t shut the hell up for two damn months!” Grabbing a flathead screwdriver, she popped open the top shield of the watch to take a look inside. “...You fried the main circuit, dumbass. You’re lucky I’ve got the pieces for it.”

The electro-watch— a fancy, one-of-a-kind piece of technology that Ouma used almost every time he turned into Byzantium Die. The small watch hid miniature gears and knobs under the fake face of the clock that controlled wattage, diameter, a tazer funtion, and a funtion that allowed to interfere with and/or freeze different technology such as electric locks or security cameras. It, of course, was extremely useful to Ouma. He was lucky that he had Iruma as a childhood friend. 

“Thanks, whore!”

“Fucking abortion.”

“Cum-guzzling slut.”

“Greasy-ass rat.”

“Flat chested cow!”

“Shouta boy!”

“Your words wound me, Miuuu.”

“Bleed out and die. Good fucking riddance.”

Their short conversation ended there, with Ouma intently watching Iruma fix his favorite piece of gear in silence, her hands moving carefully and quickly, replacing the inner workings that were ruined in a span of only twenty minutes. She tossed it carelessly to Ouma.

“There you go, asshole. Test it out.”

“Thanks, Miu! I’ll steal you some cash tonight for your hard work!”

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep, you lying fetus.”

“No, really, I will this time!” Ouma stood, taking the watch and sliding it on his wrist. It fit perfectly. It was made specifically for him, after all. “You just gotta remind me!”

Iruma was, simply put, a genius. All of her inventions made it to the big companies, where she sold the patents and prototypes for them to mass-produce, and her name was famous only through those who knew she was the real creator. She had acquired her own lab away from the city— filled with all the necessities, like circuitboards, metal, plastics, chemicals, et cetera. An entire portion of the area was full of every type of machinery possible (including a few of her own.)

She was also one of the only two people who knew his secret identity. He wasn’t physically talented or strong by any means, so he relied on Iruma’s inventions, which she only agreed to make in order to test out different pieces (and because she an Ouma had known each other from a young age, growing up in the same poor neighborhood.)

“Works great! Did you give it anything extra?”

“Added a feature where two mini jumper cables are inside. Nothin’ special.” She responded, back to fiddling with some new box that looked compact, a mix of a recorder and a speaker in the shape of a taser.

“What’s that? A new toy for me?”

Iruma grunted, fixing one last bit and holding it up proudly. “This baby here is a voice changer. Use this button ta’ record anyone’s voice, and hold this one while speakin’ near it and it’ll change your voice to match theirs exactly!” 

“Wooow, really? For me?”

“Yup.” Iruma held down the speak button, holding it to her neck near her voice box, and spoke in an exact copy of Ouma’s voice. “Hi, my name is Ouma Cockichi, and I’m a greasy little rat fetus who freeloads off’a people by crying like a baby!”

Ouma snatched the box from her, looking it over curiously and grinning. “How does it work?”

“Once it records someone’s voice, it processes the sound waves, and when ya’ hold it up to your throat by your voice box and sends small vibrations that cause your voice ta’ change. Pretty simple. Even an idiot like you can understand that.”

“Hey y’all, my name is Iruma Miu, and my hobbies include stuffing pads in my bra and drinking cum like a slut, and I love my cool friend Kokichi!”

She scoffed. “You fuckin’ wish.” 

"And I loooove fucking myself on my custom dildo that I think no one knows about!"

"Alright, ya' know what, you lying little abortion? You don't get the other two things I made for you." Iruma crossed her arms, angrily pouting, the tiniest blush across her face.

"What? You have more stuff for me?!" Ouma shoved the voice changer in his white sweatshirt pocket with sparkling eyes that of an excited child. "Can I have them? Pwetty pweeeeease?"

"Ugh, only if you never say "pwetty pwease" ever again." Iruma grumbled to herself, voice laced with a bit of disgust, as she walked over to another table littered with junk and other small prototypes--some he recognized, and some he didn't. She dug around a while, cursing when a certain bulky invention fell on the ground, but ignoring it, not bothering to check if it had broken or not, and finally pulled out some compact headphones that folded into the size of his fist and another piece that mimicked a small squirt gun.

"These," Iruma held up the headphones, "can let you clearly hear anything from up ta' a couple hundred meters. Just use the knob to choose the distance away from ya' and point the jack in the direction of whatever you're listenin' in on." She handed them to Ouma. With closer inspection, they really did look like normal headphones. A small black band connected the left and right speakers surrounded by padding to both shield out other noises and keep his head comfortable. On the left side, there was a small dial with different increments on it that Ouma could only imagine was the number of meters, counting in fives up all the way up to two-hundred. The cord was on the same side that held a regular headphone jack at the end.

"Cool, huh? I call 'em ampliphones." Iruma said proudly as Ouma looked at her invention intently. 

"That's gotta be the dumbest name you've come up with." Was his reply.

"Wha-- No it's fuckin' not! It's amplifier and headphones combined and it sounds badass and inventive!"

"Mm, whatever." He heard Iruma sputter a bit out of anger before he continued. "Aaaanywaaaay... What's the other thing? The tiny gun? Does it shoot real bullets? Fake ones? Is it the robotic bee launcher I've been asking for?"

"No, and I'm never building a damn robo-bee gun!" Iruma barked, followed by a frustrated growl, and handed the small gun to the smaller boy. 

"What does it do?"

"Learn ta' wait a few fuckin' seconds, asshole! That there is line gun. Pull the trigger and it'll release a strong cord--like a fishing line, but stronger, 'cause I used spider silk to strengthen it--up ta' two-hundred feet. At the end is a grip that attaches itself to just about anything. It's kinda like a super strong magnet with fast-acting superglue, but it's near impossible ta' separate it from whatever it's holdin' onto until you flip that switch there. Cock it and it'll switch the trigger mode to retrieve the line. You can use it like a grappling hook or in whatever other dumbass way you wanna. I don't care. But I'm not makin' another one, 'cause the line was a bitch to craft!"

"I already have so many ideas for all of these! Thanks, you cock-loving cunt."

Iruma grumbled something to herself, but Ouma couldn't decipher what exactly she was saying. He didn't need to hear it, though, to know it was a slew of insults directed at him. As Ouma kept inspecting the new tech Iruma gave him, she walked back to one of her many tables, this one full of different blueprints, and sketched all over, making notes along the way.

"By the way," She said, not paying much attention to Ouma, continuing her own project, "That one airheaded idiot made ya' a new cape. Said it could be used as a wingsuit or somethin', I dunno. Said she thought you'd like it."

"Ooh, where is it?"

"Tossed it on the scrap metal table."

Sure enough, there was a brand new white cape, tattered at the edges, that sat on top of a sheet of aluminum. The material felt odd, thick, and heavy yet comfortable at the same time when he held it up for a better look. It had a bit of an elastic property to it, but made in a way that it was still dense enough so air couldn't easily pass through. There were small handles made of a thicker, more stable fabric on the inside the he would be able to grip and the same attachments at the bottom where he feet would be. The collar was wide;It stuck up and held strongly with a clasp formed from bronze that looked more like jewelry than simply a way to hold two ends together.

"Woooow! Tell her I say thanks. Hey, what's her name, anyway?"

"I don't fuckin know. Didn't bother ta' remember."

"Hm, whatever. I don't really care, anyway." Ouma grabbed the raggedy backpack he brought with him to carry his new gear back to his own apartment. "I think I wanna have fun with these tonight. Will you help me? Pleeeease?"

"Only if you shut up and get the hell out!"

"Fine, fine! I'll call you at nine."

"Fucking hell, Kokichi, I got it."

And, with that, Ouma ran out, already planning his next game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit y'all, i didn't expect that much positive feedback??? as you can see, im continuing this fic, and boy oh boy is it wild.
> 
> also, i should mention that ouma wears casual/comfy clothes. he wears his canon outfit as byzantium die.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> read end for notes!!

    “Nishishi! Hey, hey, hey, everybody!” 

    Ouma grinned, relishing in the feeling of the night breeze flowing against his new cape, standing atop a bank with spraycans in hand. 

_ “Ouma, get down from there, you fucking dumbass! There are cops nearby!” _

__ “I’m fine, Miu! I’ve got your inventions with me.” Ouma mumbled into a small radio headset. He was very well aware, after setting off the alarm for fun when leaving the vault, improvising when he figured it would be more interesting to let the public know himself than letting them find out that he covered stacks of cash with purple spray paint.

_ “I swear to fucking  _ God, _ Kokichi—“ _

    The villain chose to ignore Iruma’s scolding, taking in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling the crisp chill fill his nostrils and down to his lungs, and grinned larger when he looked down to the hundreds—maybe thousands—of people down below him, giving him the power surge he loved so much. Ouma supposed that maybe he had a  _ bit  _ of a sadistic personality. 

    “It’s your faaaaavorite supervillain, Byzantium Die, back at it again with those genius crimes!

    “Oh, man, why do some of you look mad? Hey, you, in the red, are you booing me? So rude! I hope you use this bank, because I just vandalized all the cash and valuable items in there!” Ouma snickered, some people looked more annoyed than anything, but there were the fair amount of those who looked on in worry. “Don’t worry, I didn’t steal anything more than a couple of hundred dollars for a friend. It’s all intact.”

    “ _ What the fuck? We made a deal for three thousand, you god damned fucking—“ _

    Ouma pressed a small button that turned off the transmitter.

    “Oh, and I made sure to spray paint over a good amount of property deeds, soooo you all had better check if you still own anything. Anywaaay, I’ve got a date coming up with this super cute guy, so I’ve got to prepare and look my best. He doesn’t know who I am, though, so do you guys have any ideas how to tell him? But whatever! This was fun. See ya!” 

     And with that, Ouma gave a salute and disappeared past the edge of the bank, where the turned his transmitter back on, opening it only to be met with a slew of curses.

_ “—tter turn this fucking thing on, Kokichi, or I’m never helping you again! You’re fucking putting us both in danger, you know that, you damn pussyshit? I haven’t updated this shitty-ass line so it can still be traced and listened in on, and I’m not about to get all my fucking shit and my lab taken away from me—“ _

__ “Calm down, Miuuu. I just finished. Also, I kinda wanna live tonight, so I’m just going straight back to my place.”

_ “No you fucking aren’t you piece of shit scumbag, I’m not fucking done with you!” _

__ “I‘mturningthisoffnowbyeeeeee!” 

Me: hey shuuichi <3 

shuuichi <3: Ouma?

Me: yup!! and i thought i told u to call me kokichi

Me: are we not together anymore?? :((((((

shuuichi <3: We never were!

shuuichi <3: But... Sorry, Kokichi. I’m not used to it.

Me: it’s ok!!!!! so anyway, where are u taking me for our next date?? it better be exciting

shuuichi <3: I thought you were going to choose...? But it’s a nice time of year for the boardwalk I guess. Not many people.

Me: ooo so we can be alone ;) <333

shuuichi <3: You know I didn’t mean it like that!

Me: nishishi~ ik, but ur so cute and fun to mess with, i just cant help myself

Me: sooooo how about tomorrow for the boardwalk?????

shuuichi <3: I have to work a late shift again. How about the day after?

Me: awwwwwww i rly dont wanna wait

Me: but whatever my dear shuuichi says!! i’ll be at ur apartment at 5 or 6

shuuichi <3: Yeah, ok... need directions?

Me: no worries, i planted a tracking device on your body while we were watching the movie

shuuichi <3: You what?!

Me: nishishi~ that was a lie. or was it? who knows! youre either being tracked or i have an amazing memory. 

shuuichi <3: I’m hoping it’s the memory, but I'm not sure I'd put it past you...

Me: lol!! i’ll come visit u at work tomorrow so u wont be bored during ur late shift

shuuichi <3: Um... thanks.

Me: aww you even pause over text!!!!!!!!

shuuichi <3: Sorry

Me: nooooooo nonono it’s cuteee

Me: like uuuuu

shuuichi<3: You don’t have to flatter me this much...

Me: yeah maybe i dont /have/ to

Me: but i want to so u’ll have to deal with it :)

shuuichi <3: I'll do my best to get used to it, then.

Me: awww!!!! my dear shuuichi is putting in so much effort for lil ol me!!

shuuichi <3: ...I'm just going to stop responding to those types of texts...

Me: i can almost see u blushing at the other side omg

Me: or maybe i actually can

Me: maybe im watching u right now

Me: in this very moment~

shuuichi <3: You're not.

Me: aww u got me :'( i think im gonna cryyyyy

shuuichi <3: ...

Me: welp!! i'll see u tomorrow then!!

shuuichi <3: Yeah. I'm working until 11 again.

Me: if u get tired i can help keep u awake ;)

shuuichi <3: ...

shuuichi <3: Good night, Kokichi.

Me: gn my beloved~~~~~~~

shuuichi <3: What's with all the tildes?

Me: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

shuuichi <3: I'm not getting an answer, am I...

Me: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The next day came, and with it, Ouma had visited Saihara at work as promised. Only a small group of friends were seated at the time, with small chatter and light conversation filling the quiet, calm area, and the genuine smile Ouma wore made for an alright shift for the waiter. He and the smaller male were able to chat a while. It was more Ouma telling crazy, half-fake tales of his past and less of Saihara giving any input, but they had both been comfortable with that. Nothing intimate was shared. Nothing romantic. Just two people talking, with one recounting stories and the other simply listening with an amused look on their face.

    It was nice.

    But now, Ouma stood excitedly knocking on Saihara's apartment door in nice jeans and a comfortable jacket. And though it only took a few moments and a muffled  _ "I'm coming!" _ , it truly felt like an eternity for Saihara to open the door. And,  _ God,  _ was it worth the wait.

    Ouma couldn't help but stare into those golden eyes every time he saw them. Those bright amber irises, hiding specs of gold that you could only see up close, the outer rim starting brown before blurring into that beautiful glow and back again when it reached his dark, dark pupils. Thick lower lashes that tickled Saihara's pale cheeks. That small glint of intelligence and curiosity. They were a black hole, sucking him in, drowning him in those gorgeous eyes and taking the breath right from his lungs as he hopelessly fell in and lost himself.

    But Saihara couldn't see that in himself, and it physically ached and tugged on Ouma's heart when he adjusted the brim of his hat to hide them from the light that accented their allure. They said that the eyes were the window to the soul, but the shadow that hung over them acted as blinds, not allowing anyone but Saihara to know what was behind.

    "K-Kokichi, um... why are you staring...?" 

    "It's just that my dear Shuuichi has such pretty eyes!" Ouma chirped. He would normally lie, in any other situation, with any other person. But the truth had to come out if there was a chance that it would convince Saihara even the tiniest bit to stop wearing that hat.

    "I-I...! Thank you, but, uh..." Saihara averted his eyes to the ground, hiding even further from Ouma, but at least he got to see those long lashes lightly brush against his soft skin. Ouma supposed it was soft. He hadn't touched the other's cheeks (as much as he may have been compelled to.) "...I don't... like looking people in the eyes."

    "Not even me? Wow, so mean. You're so cruel to me, Shuuichi!" Ouma pouted, causing Saihara to chuckle the tiniest bit in amusement, and the small villain couldn't help but smile a bit, too, after hearing that soft laugh.

    He took a bold move and grabbed hold of Saihara's hand with his. Ouma could feel him tense a bit, so he refrained from interlacing their fingers, and nearly dragged his date to the elevator and out the building. When they reached the street, he couldn't tell which one of their hands were sweating. It was probably a mixture of both.

    "So, Shuuichi..." Ouma clung to Saihara's arm like a child, half out of affection and half to show off that  _ Hey, this is my date, he's perfect and he's mine.  _ "...I'm hungry. 

Where are we gonna eat?"

    Saihara had found his calm and relaxed a bit since the moment his hand was grabbed, but he was still visibly a bit uncomfortable, which made Ouma frown slightly. "Ah... I was thinking of that nice Italian place near all the shops. I figured that it could be nice to have some, uh, pizza or spaghetti or something... u-unless you don't want to."

    "Yeah, that sounds nice!" Ouma gave a small gasp with a hand to his chest. "Oh! Could it be? Were you... thinking about Lady and the Tramp, Shuuichi? Bad boy!" 

    "Wh- I--!" Ouma only giggled as he watched Saihara sputter for a few moments, cheeks lighting up to be a bright red, and when Ouma saw that color dust his the other's face, he could've sworn he felt his face grow a bit hot too. Sadly, Saihara pulled down the brim of his hat some more and averted his eyes to the side. "You know what I meant..."

    "Nishishi~ But pizza sounds great! It's nice to have some greasy food once in a while. Oh, and if I get pizza sauce on my mouth, I expect  _ you  _ to clean it off with a napkin. I'm too important to worry about something like that, so I'll just make my boyfriend do it for me." 

    It was fun, teasing Saihara, but it was nice to see him smile and blush as well. This date would surely be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END NOTES!!
> 
> so sadly, i will most likely abandon this fic, since im just really not as into saiouma as i was when i first wrote this. its still a cool ship, but i just dont love it enough to devote my time to seeing this through. im nearly 18, im gonna be a senior, im looking for jobs, and i just really dont have time for writing something i dont love
> 
> but on the other hand, i am looking for someone to continue this for me! it'd become yours and you could do what you want with it, but i do have a plotline/chapter plan that you could follow. there was already one nod to the end of the fic, but it's small enough to not take note. i have sketches that go with this as well that you're allowed to post if you wish.
> 
> email me at bjornspuppyfetish@gmail.com for more info and i can go into more detail/answer questions


	4. PSA - New Author Announcement thingy :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an update on the shit this'll be going through now aha;;

Hello! I'm sorry it took a while to get around to this but I'm the new author for this ((Aha don't hunt me down)) and I just want to confirm that, yes, updates will be slow since I'm still deciding what to do with the plot for this and such but I promise that I won't abandon it in the near future!

Also I might make them a bit ooc and such because I haven't wrote many fics for them ((the ones I have are only oneshots)) and still getting used to it, which is why I took up this! And I'm sorry to tell you that I am not comfortable with writing smut  _at the moment_ but we'll just have to wait and see for the future.

If I were to predict when I'd get another chapter up I'd say from mid November to beginning of December since I need to study for exams and such.

So uh for the mean time have a preview of their little date... :)

* * *

 

They were nearly at the restaurant by the time Kokichi had let go of Saihara's arm and just held his beloved's hand. Though, because of his AMAZING luck Miu was waiting outside and happened to spot him. She sent him a scowl as she walked up to him.

"Asshole you better pay me right now with the amount I actually requested!" Kokichi had inwardly died at this point whilst Saihara was just looking extremely confused.

"Ahh Iruma-Chan! Were you stalking me and my beloved boyfriend here? I know you get off to some weird shit but that's just creepy!" Ouma snickered as he rested his hands behind his head, praying that she wouldn't drag the topic further and enjoying the blush that had spread out across Saihara's cheeks.

"Now you listen here you demon child" Miu had grabbed him by the collar whilst Saihara~Chan had started panicking despite Ouma's carefree smile stretching across his face. 

"We need to talk about Spirito Note, it's an emergency bitch" Miu had lowered her voice as to respect Oumas wish for Saihara to not get involved with his other life, the message Miu had told him made his smile waver a bit though.

What could possibly go wrong this time?


End file.
